Wishes
suspended
in a filmy lacquer
like a child's secret utterance
set
  in
       invisible
                  liquid-hope
                         ­        based on nothing at all
are like blemishes in an otherwise perfect diamond

How, in a lugubrious world
     hanging
     by
     a
     single
     extruded
     wire
     of
     tenuous
     mercy
can there be
mines beneath shallow graves
dug by slaves with bloodied fingers
and frightening visions
of those thousand-foot-deep-burial-wells
clawed into the forehead of the world
     in fake-searching
              of a new
                        and magic
                                        element
           ­                                         to brag-mix
into toothpaste or a new and improved Brylcreem
  (now formulated for your pets and guaranteed to make a difference)

                                             PLEASE NOTE:
A child's wish or question should be disqualified due to the lack
of subtext and connived distortion to pre-fashion the desired answer
                                                or result
                   (It's hard to trick youth when it is too young)

The space between burial plots
is reserved to bury the mental oozings
of wishers and questioners
and the ceremonies are to be torchlit processions
                                               marching
                                            back
       ­                                 into
                           ­               rotting
                                          ­      cemeteries
                                      near darkened woods
                                 on the edge of civilizations
              where truth sleeps in the above-mentioned shallow graves
                                            and those sneaky spaces
                                                          ­      in
                                                        ­  between

There are caves and mines below,
                                                      you know
                 encroached and heavily toothed
                 with stalactites
                 and stalagmites
                 of stalac-rights
                 and stalag-wrongs
                 of revivalist lies
                 pouring over stone fangs
                 chomping down on any remaining truth
                 amid blackened deceit
                 fought with limp-wristed efforts
                 by feigning reason
                 and pale blue innocence
                 which always clouds up the lovely prejudice in play
                 with silly attempts to appear decent


Do wishes petrify
or just hold very still under glass
to not frighten the proctors
or their undeveloped wards
                                                  in hoards
                                                          ­      on field trips?

The secret to making wishes come true is hidden in the puzzle:

                    K         R          O          W

                    R                   ­                 O
                                     UOY
                    O                                    R

 ­                   W         O           R          K
                                         #
                  > unscramble and despair <

The current judges always remain unmoved
                                 unimpressed
                      uncaring
and refuse to blow out the candles
until the day that someone judges THEM
in all prejudice and bias of the mind
of good and proper scale bearers
and compromised judges
just wishing for dignified approval

What might the answer be
when a foolish soul, surrounded in questions, asks,
"Does anyone have change for a parent?
It seems I only have a single father to my name."

"I have two career choices in the arts, so I can break him."
           is the reply
"No,"
            answeres the hopeful.
"I need four erroneous opinions to fit into his ear
or the machinery doesn't grind to a complete halt.
Doesn't anyone have the proper change?"

Someone must always sit on the low end
of the teeter-totter of wishes

Won't anyone play with me?
I wish someone would
I need contra-ballast
if only to assuage my conscience

Somebody?
Somebody?
Anybody?
                                   Is no one disappointed in a parent?
                                   Is everyone here made of stone?